


For real

by GarGoyl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fantasy, Horror, M/M, Obsession, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 05:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2610875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarGoyl/pseuds/GarGoyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Arthur Kirkland, a shy young clerk living with his mother and stalked by his neighbor, meets his music idol in very bizarre and dangerous circumstances. But will that eventually bring them together, or be the end of them both? Creepy USUK and Alfred F. Jones has a tongue piercing. Enough said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

A/N – Hello everyone! Here I am with a new US/UK story. It is another adaptation of an old original story of mine that I was quite excited to revisit and rework to upgraded standards ;) Of course, as it is with old, beginner fics, it took some serious refurbishment, but I'm happy with the result. Also, some more magic in this one as well… and plenty of creepiness, because it brightens our day ;) This one will also have two-three chapters max. All that being said, enjoy and let me know what you think of it!

* * *

**Friday 7:30 A.M.**

_Bip bip bip!_

"Oh my God! 7:30 already…." The still half-asleep blond sat up groggily and patted the nightstand in search of the troublesome mobile, proceeding to turn the alarm off, then dropped back on the pillows for another moment. Mornings were such torture, to struggle every day with the temptation of the warm bed and soft sheets!

"Ok, let's get up, it's late, work is waiting…" Arthur grumbled out loud, as if trying to convince himself that it had to be done. Finally he managed to drag himself out of bed and into the bathroom.

"Morning, love! Hurry up, breakfast is ready!" a cheerful voice called, while a pleasant smell of fresh coffee wafted invitingly from the kitchen, beckoning the sleepy youth to its source.

"Morning, Mom!" Arthur greeted, plopping down in his usual seat. But whatever enthusiasm for the new day he'd managed to muster until then promptly dissipated at the sight of what had been laid on the table. "Oh Mom, did you have to buy this kind of bread again? I told you I hate it!" he grumbled ill-humoredly, pushing his plate aside and reaching for the steaming cup instead, while ignoring his mother's growing scowl.

"You hate everything healthy, don't you? Now hush, I'm trying to watch the news," Mrs. Kirkland replied in a dry tone, shaking her head.

Oh yes, that was what his mother was all about – horrid diet bread and tedious news! "Of course, you and your undying interest in bloody politics… God, I hate it!"

" _And now the latest news from the music world…._ " the speaker announced.

"See? Music news! I bet that interests you! You would be capable of listening to that rubbish they call music nowadays all day long," Mrs. Kirkland pointed out, throwing a disapproving look at her son.

Arthur rolled his eyes, picking what he could from the plate while carefully avoiding the dreaded slices of uncertain yellow-brownish color and sipping on the still hot coffee. He had to finish as quick as he could and leave already, before his mother would launch in another endless speech full of 'constructive criticism'.

" _Alfred F. Jones, the singer and front man of the band Greenhouse Theater continues to be in a coma. The artist was found in this state last Sunday in his home..."_

"Oh God, what could have happened?" Arthur wondered out loud, placing his cup down and craning his neck as he tried to see past his mother's massive frame.

" _At the moment the reason of his state remains unknown and the doctors have declared that the investigations are in process…"_

"You see, love? These musicians: they are all into drugs, drink and all that. And then they die all the sudden and everybody says 'Oh my God, how did this happen?' There's absolutely nothing positive to see in these people!"

And there it was, the blond could already feel a headache creeping in. He was twenty-three, for God's sake! For how long would his mother continue to try to 'educate' him and fill his head with her ancient ideas?! In moments like these the poor young man could think of nothing past the fact that he needed to do something – _anything_ – and move out already! It wasn't that Arthur didn't love his mother – of course he did – but instead of becoming more lenient as he was growing up she was only becoming more and more suffocating.

"Mom, please! One's music, which is one's work, has nothing to do with that person's private life and choices," he tried to explain calmly, although it was most likely pointless. "Besides, you know nothing about this fellow."

But predictably, Mrs. Kirkland only looked at him as if she would a small child. "Love, maybe you see it this way, but the fact is that they promote a way of life which can only be described as wrong and self-destructive," she insisted.

Why the hell was he even bothering, again? "Okay Mom, whatever you say. Thanks for the breakfast. I have to go now. The office awaits me-" Arthur tried to end the increasingly obnoxious conversation.

"Wait a minute, love! I forgot to tell you: Ivan was here looking for you yesterday!"

Arthur stopped in the doorframe with a quizzical look. "Ivan as in Ivan Braginski, our neighbor?".

"Yes, love. He wanted to talk to you. About a book or something. He's a really nice fellow, you know…"

_Oh, bloody hell!_ _Just how much worse is this morning going to get?!_ The Englishman resisted the urge to facepalm, hard. "Mom… You didn't mention to him anything like… the fact that I'm single, now did you?"

There was an innocently confused look upon Mrs. Kirkland's face which only confirmed his worst suspicion."But love, you _are_ single. And Ivan seems such a nice chap. Maybe you two could go out or something?" she pointed out.

Right, this was one crap Friday and it wasn't even the 13th… "Oh God, Mom!" I mean don't you find it weird that he never goes to work or something? Maybe he doesn't even have a job. And he's what… thirty? And he looks at me in a funny way!"

"Or maybe he works at home. Maybe he's a writer or something. And I think he likes you." his mother replied with a light smile.

"Yeah Mom, I'm sure he is a fabulous writer and he is in love with me. Bye now!"

"Bye love!"

* * *

**Friday 1:00 P.M.**

_So, I'm having lunch at this fast food again, just when my diet had started to pay out._ Arthur thought as he picked another fry from the plate in front of him. _I bet my mom would be very disappointed. Oh well, what she doesn't know can't hurt her…_ _Certainly not the chips delight of today, or the pizza from last week..._

"I thought you were on a diet, _mon ami_. Though you didn't actually need one," his colleague Francis said in amusement pointing at the Englishman's big Cola glass.

"I'm trying, alright mate? I'm trying to eat more healthy food. I just had a moment of weakness, that's all. I'm only human," the other blond explained with his mouth full.

Francis laughed, twisting a strand of his long hair around his finger lazily as he picked at his own lunch. "And I bet your mother bought that awful bread again and made you eat it, didn't she?" he went on.

"Almost… the hell with it, it's bloody awful! Hold on," Arthur dug for the mobile in his back pocket. "Now who the hell is bothering me at lunch? I don't even know this number... Hello?"

"Hello! This is Mr. Arthur Kirkland, da?"

The blond scowled, intrigued by the strange, foreign accent. He really hoped this wasn't another stupid social survey or the bank insisting he should not miss the opportunity to open a short-term overdraft account at promotional interest rates for the first three months. Or some other rubbish of the same sort.

"Yes, this is him. Who's asking?"

"Oh, hello Arthur. It's me, Ivan. Second floor, remember, da?"

The Englishman's face scrunched into such a sour grimace that his friend instantly burst into laughter. He absolutely couldn't believe that his mother had actually given that freak his mobile number! They would have to have a very serious conversation on the matter sometime, although he really wasn't looking forward to it.

"Uh… yes, I do. So… Ivan, what's the occasion?" Maybe some stiffness would deter the unpleasant chap, whatever his purpose might have been – or so the Englishman hoped. But sadly, no such luck.

"Listen, I was wondering if you want to hang out with me tonight, since it's Friday? I was thinking we can go see a movie at the mall, da… What do you say?" the other asked, completely oblivious to his cold tone.

Arthur's face fell, much to Francis' escalating amusement. "God, now this freak's asking me out on a date, what the hell?!" he mouthed with an exasperated expression. But the air-headed Frenchman only chuckled harder.

"Uh… Ivan… that's very nice of you, but it has been a long week and I'm tired and I'd rather stay at home tonight. Maybe some other time, alright mate?"

"Oh, I see…. Okay then, we'll talk later, da? I'm sorry to have disturbed you; you are at work probably…. Bye."

Arthur dropped his mobile on the table with an irritated huff, followed by a string of profanities. "Apparently my mother gave my mobile number to our new and particularly weird neighbor Ivan. And now the creep called to ask me _out_! Nothing short of extraordinary, isn't it?" An unpleasant feeling had settled in the blond's stomach upon having the brief conversation with the Russian and he now found to have completely lost his appetite.

"Just like that, _mon ami_? But you've spoken like what, twice?"

"Yes, in general I've done my best to avoid him. He's quite scary, to be completely honest , mate. Strange thing he asked me _out_ though, since he never seems to leave the house. But of course Mom thinks he's nice…"

Francis rolled his eyes and accidentally-on-purpose took a sip from his friend's glass, since his own was already empty. "Oh _mon ami_ , let's not even start on the subject of your mother," he said, shaking his head. "Listen, maybe you only spoke twice, but he may have developed an obsession for you. Maybe he's been following you and he knows everything about you, and now he finally decided to ask you out and you refused. And now something bad will happen…"

"Spare me of such scenarios, will you mate?" the Englishman replied, not amused. "I just hope that Mom doesn't find out about this fabulous date I just refused, because I really don't feel like having another conversation with her about Ivan and about how I'm wasting my life and bla bla bla".

* * *

**Friday 8 P.M.**

_Finally this appalling day is over, work is over, hopefully the nasty surprises are over as well…_ Arthur thought as he got off the bus and headed towards his block. His head had been pounding since lunch time after Ivan's call and now he dreaded having to get back, all the while being extra-careful not to be seen by or run into that man again.

Once inside the building and throwing wary looks around at every step, he rushed towards the elevator as fast as he could, forgetting to even check the mailbox. The blond impatiently counted the floors as he went up, hoping that the rest of the brief journey to his apartment remain sans encounters. Cursing the day fate had decided to make him, Arthur Kirkland, the target of all its bad jokes, he crept like a thief to his own door and let himself in as rapidly as humanly possible.

"Mom! I'm home!"

"Hey there, love!" Mrs. Kirkland came out of the kitchen to greet her son, wiping her hands on her apron. "How was your day?"

"As usual, long. How was your day, Mom?"

"Oh, mine too. Sometimes I'm getting so sick and tired of the hospital, all the people, all the smells, all the sounds, all the suffering. But then I say to myself that this is the job I chose to dedicate myself to and that I must go on… But no matter. Now I'll prepare a nice dinner and later we can watch some TV and relax. Okay, love?"

"Sure Mom, that sounds great…" Arthur agreed half-heartedly on the way to his room.

_Alright, alright, she knows nothing for now. That means the freak didn't show up around here today. Perfect!_

* * *

**Saturday 4 A.M.**

Arthur woke up with a start. He felt dizzy and so thirsty that his throat almost hurt. Slowly, the blond struggled to free himself from the tangled sheets and switched on the lamp on his nightstand, got out of bed and headed towards the door of his room. However, strangely enough, the door was getting further and further away, out of his reach. _What the hell?_ He looked around in confusion.

"Where am I?" he asked out loud, although the question didn't make much sense in his groggy head. He noticed a huge mirror in a remote corner of the room and involuntarily walked towards it.

_Bloody hell, what is this?!_

Observing himself in the mirror, the Englishman realised that he looked completely different from the way he'd gone to bed. He wore a black, expensive designer suit, with a pristine white shirt and a silk tie and for once his hair wasn't sticking oddly in all directions. _If this is a dream, it sure is a strange one…_

"Oh, but this is no dream, my friend. You are very much awake, da," came a man's voice out of nowhere.

"Who are you? Where are you?" Arthur demanded, glancing around startled, but could see no one.

"I am the Owner," replied the voice calmly."Your Owner. You belong to me now, da."

A pang of fear shot through the young man's stomach at hearing this, to the extend his hands flew to his waist, squeezing and crumpling the white shirt. And the voice, the voice! He was sure he'd heard it before, but where? He couldn't remember… Something was wrong with his head, he couldn't think straight!

"What the hell are you saying, you tosser?! You don't own me, it's ridiculous! And where am I?" he cried.

"In a place from where there's no way out, my friend. This is… my mind. But you will like it, I'll make it a place full of wonders, only for you, da." the voice replied.

"No! I can't be in your mind, you're insane! You'd better let me go, you bloody psycho! Now!"

If this was even possible, Arthur's terror only grew as the light began to fade and he realised that in no time he'd be left in complete darkness. What sort of twisted, sick dream was this?! Suddenly he felt very cold and turned to the bed to pick a blanket. But now the bed was also gone. In fact, there was nothing left at all, the room was empty and only the door remained, like a black rectangle suspended in the semi-obscurity.

"I understand your confusion. I suppose it's natural, da. I will leave you for now. I advise you to calm down and go explore your new home," the voice suggested.

_I can't believe this! This can't be, it just can't. Either I'm dreaming or I am really in this guy's mind. And it all feels so real, it's very different from dreams. God, could this be possible?!_ Arthur wondered as he sat crouched on the floor, shivering.

Time passed, it seemed like long hours. The Englishman hadn't moved from the floor, his mind filled with horror as he was now sure that he was wide awake. His ears perceived clear sounds, both close and remote: the ticking of a clock, someone knocking on a door somewhere in the distance. And suddenly another familiar voice cried:

"Arthur! My boy, talk to me! Arthur, what is wrong with you?! My God, no, not my child! Arthur, please! Please!"

"Mom?!" the blond rose from the floor in one jump. The voice seemed to come from somewhere above him and he frantically looked up, seeing nothing. "Mom! I'm here! Mom, help me!" he screamed. But there was no answer, instead he heard his mother weep."Mom, can't you hear me? Mom, why don't you answer me?!"

_God, she can't hear me!_ Arthur realized all the sudden. _What's happening to me? What has he done to me?!_

For a while there was silence. And then there was his mother's voice again:

"Doctor, please tell me, what is wrong with him?"

"He's in a coma. I can't figure out why just yet, we need to investigate some more," answered an unknown voice.

_I'm in a coma? My God! But what happened, how the hell did he do this? How did he get me into his mind?_

Arthur felt cold sweat forming on his forehead and he wiped it out with the back of his hand. "I've got to get out of here; there must be a way out. Yes, there must be. He lied to me. He fucking lied to me!" he muttered to himself.

**_To be continued_ **


	2. Chapter 2

Glancing around, the Englishman noticed that the door had moved to the left. He cautiously approached it and pressed the knob, opened it and stepped out. He found himself in an endless hallway, lit by blue torches. On each side of the hallway there were identical doors.

"Hello?! Is anyone here?" Arthur called involuntarily and then he stopped, quickly placing a hand over his mouth. _Of course someone is here._ He _is here. Maybe it's best if he doesn't know where I am…_

He took a few steps towards the nearest door and stopped. _Strange. I cannot hear any sounds now. I was sure I heard someone knocking around here earlier_. He tried the door but it was locked. _So I guess this room I'm not supposed to 'explore'. Anyway, if there is_ any _way out, I doubt it's any of these doors. I think they must all be various rooms._

He walked further. _The way out must be at the end of this hallway. But which end? And I can't see any end. Oh well, let's try the right end_. Arthur continued to walk towards what he thought to be the right end. But was there really such a thing as a way out of someone's mind? _This is insane, just insane, why am I even bothering…?_ He could feel a mixture of anxiety and exhaustion taking over him, threatening to take over, but he refused to give in. Might as well see how far the oddity would go…

Suddenly there was a sound of glass breaking as the blond passed near a door to his left and he stopped to listen, brusquely alert. _There's something or someone in here.._. He tried the knob and the door opened with a crack. The room was a perfect, brightly lit square with its walls entirely covered in mirrors. In the middle a red stool was placed, upon which a large black dog rested. It quickly lifted its head at the sound and stared at Arthur for a few seconds, before springing from the stool barking and heading towards him. A strange echo made the barks even more sinister.

_Oh, bloody hell! Some 'wonders' he's made for me, that sick bastard!_

The green-eyed young man hurried to get out and slammed the door as hard as he could. Then he waited. The dog had reached the door and its claws could be heard scratching the wood as it barked, while on the other side Arthur desperately held the door with both hands. Suddenly he released the knob and ran down the hallway, still able to hear the dog's barks coming through the closed door.

Eventually running out of breath in some unknown point of the endless hallway, the Englishman stopped, his heart pounding from the effort and listened - there was music coming from somewhere close. It was coming from a part of the hallway which was in complete darkness. He went further patting blindly at the wall, the sound getting louder and louder. It was rock music and sounded surprisingly familiar too.

_Can't remember the name of this song and who's playing it_ … Arthur thought, but he was sure he'd heard it before. At last he came upon a doorframe and searched for the knob, pressing it open. The music was a lot louder than he could have guessed from outside and the room, unlike the other one, was only faintly lit by two small yellow lamps in opposite corners. In the middle there was a band of four men, playing wildly.

_Hey, I know them, they're the Greenhouse Theater_ _!_ _But_ _wait… they said yesterday in the morning news that their singer is in a coma. Bloody hell! But I am in a coma too!_ The truth hit him. _God, is he here too?_ _He_ _has got him? He's got them all?_

The Englishman closed the door behind him slowly and approached the group, but the band kept playing undisturbed, not paying any attention to him whatsoever.

"Uh… excuse me... Hello?" he tried, waving his hand in front of the one he knew to be Alfred F. Jones. But the bespectacled blond he'd seen so many times on MTV kept singing and playing his guitar all the while looking right through him.

_Oh, crap! This is an illusion, the bastard is mocking me. They are not really here, or what the hell..?_ Was that supposed to be another 'wonder', his favorite band, along with his secret crush? _Alright, let's give it another try_ …

"ALFRED!? Alfred, can you hear me? Stop! Look at me!" the Englishman yelled grabbing the other's shoulders and shaking him with all his strength.

"What! What are you doing, who are you?" the singer suddenly seemed to come back from trance. The other guys stopped playing as well and stared inquisitively at the intruder.

"Uh… I'm sorry, Mr. Jones… uh… Alfred… " _Mr. Jones? Oh God, that was a good one_! Arthur kicked himself inwardly, did he really have to say something so stupid? "Uh… can you tell me what you are doing here?" he finally managed to say. Great, more stuttering…

"Dude, what do you mean what are we doing here!? We are shooting a video, can't you see?" Alfred replied in a mix of confusion and anger, adjusting his spectacles.

Just as he was speaking the other boys disappeared.

"Uh… we?"

"Yeah dude, me and my band!" came the answer. Now Alfred was positively pissed.

Taking one step back, Arthur fidgeted, nervous and unsure how to phrase it as to not annoy his crush further."Listen, mate, I don't want to sound weird, but what band? There's no one here…"

"What?!" the other blond looked around in total confusion. "Guys, where the hell are you?" he called. "This is not fucking funny!" No answer came except for a strange echo of his own voice. "Is this supposed to be a joke or something? And who the fuck are you anyway?"

The Englishman gulped. "A-Arthur Kirkland…" If he could just breathe normally, for fuck's sake… "And this is no joke. It's a… it's more like a nightmare…" _Bloody hell, how am I going to explain this to him? He'll never believe me!_

"What do you mean?"

The green-eyed blond fidgeted some more - Alfred was a lot taller than him and he felt a bit uncomfortable under his gaze. He reckoned that this would probably not go very smoothly. "Listen, do you remember how you got here? Didn't you hear a voice? Was there anyone else here except for the guys in your band?"

The American looked down confused and pressed his forehead with his fingers. "Uh… no, in fact I don't really remember coming here, I thought… And while I was playing I heard some voices, like they were in a hospital or something, but they were far away so I figured they were on another set…"

_Alright, here goes nothing_. "Alfred, listen! Let me tell you what happened to me, okay? I went to bed in my home and woke up in this place. Then I heard a man's voice telling me he's the Owner, and he owns me now, and that now I'm in his mind. And then I heard Mom's voice calling me, asking me to wake up, and then I heard a doctor telling my mom that I was in a coma. And yesterday I heard on the morning news that you were in a coma too, since last week. I honestly don't know whether this is a nightmare or I've completely lost my mind!" Arthur paused for a moment, drawing a deep breath, then went on. "Anyway I woke up in another room, and then I got in a hallway and then I heard music and I came to this room and I found you and I thought… I don't know…"

"Um… dude, it all sounds pretty crazy, you know," Alfred observed, after a few moments of awkward silence.

"Oh, I-I know, but you said it yourself that you don't remember how you got here! So this is either a nightmare, or we're both in this guy's mind," the other blond concluded.

"It does feel as real as hell…" Alfred stated, fingering his guitar. "I know for sure that in my dreams I could never play guitar… it is quite disturbing, actually."

Join the club, Arthur wanted to say, sharing the same feeling. That and that at this point he was scared shitless. How could anyone trap people in their mind anyway?!

"Oh, my little friend, aren't you naughty, da," suddenly said the Owner's voice from somewhere above, "I said you could explore around, however I did _not_ say you were allowed to mess with my things, now did I?"

"Hey! Who the fuck are you?!" Alfred demanded looking up, but obviously there was no one in sight.

"He's the guy who claims to have trapped us in here! _The Owner_!" the Englishman cried, involuntarily clinging to his arm. Realising what he'd done though, he let go, hoping the other hadn't noticed.

"I advise you to go back to your song, Jones!" the Owner threatened. "Do what you were brought here to do or suffer the consequences!"

The American tossed away his guitar and adjusted his spectacles, clearly nervous but not willing to give up just yet. "Don't you dare threaten me, you fucking bastard! Who the hell are you anyway and what the fuck do you think you're doing!?"

"You have been warned." said the Owner coldly.

Suddenly the curtains covering the one window grew, tumbling and rolling like thick purple velvet snakes across the floor, eventually capturing Alfred and wrapping themselves around his neck. The Englishman gasped in utter horror as the other blond thrashed and struggled for air helplessly, suspended by the wicked pieces of fabric several feet above the floor.

"Let him go!" he pleaded desperately, looking up into the dark ceiling, from where he guessed the bastard must have been watching them. "Please! I won't talk to him again, never, I-I swear!"

"Swear obedience to me, Alfred, and you shall live, da," came the voice, cold as ice but perfectly calm.

"I… aaargh… swear," Alfred managed to whisper half-choking.

"That's a lot better, da…"

The curtains released him and his body fell limp to the wooden floor, face down.

"Alfred, are you ok?! Alfred?!" the green-eyed youth cried as he rushed by his side and knelt to check on him.

"I thought you said you weren't going to talk to him again," the Owner said in a menacing tone. "And you can bet on it, da." he added. As soon as he uttered the words, the floor sunk and Arthur fell through it before he could make a sound.

* * *

It felt like waking up from a deep, sickly sleep, the kind which always left a mild headache in its wake, except it wasn't actually any sort of 'wake-up', not at all. He was still here, in the accursed place which was his captor's mind and Arthur hated it already beyond words.

Ignoring the feeling of utter helplessness at the fact, he glanced around, taking in his new surroundings. The room in which he found himself was round and entirely decorated in a shade of pale yellow, the walls covered by smooth, plain silk tapestries. Bright daylight came in through several tall and narrow windows and just like in the room where he'd met Alfred, there was no furniture. To his momentary relief, the Englishman noted that at least here there were no curtains. Red flowers floated on a shallow basin with dark water located in the center of the large round room and in the middle of the basin there was a white round pillow on which Arthur currently sat. His clothing had changed - for now a long red silk robe spread all around him on the pillow – and he could see the tips of sharp, long, black nails peeking from under the long sleeves. That particular discovery had him flinching in disgust.

There was a noise somewhere outside, the faintest of sounds, like someone was groping, maybe groping in the dark, drawing closer, but Arthur simply waited, numb and too frightened to move. Was there any meaning to what was going on now? Was that bastard going to punish him in some way for having talked to Alfred? Alfred! It was clear now that the singer too was a prisoner in this place and the Englishman thought he should have looked for him, should have helped him, but how? He couldn't even help himself.

But then the door was slammed open and Alfred burst into the room, panting and squinting as if blinded.

"Arthur!? Is that you?" The American walked up to the basin, but the smaller blond remained motionless, not daring to open his mouth. It had gone badly the last time. "Arthur!" Alfred stepped over the basin's edge and the water, which had seemed very shallow, now swallowed him whole. Struggling and gasping for air he resurfaced a moment later and cautiously climbed on the large, floating pillow, drenched in murky water and with his glasses askew. "Arthur! Arthur, wake up!" he insisted, shaking the green-eyed young man who sat there stiff, not knowing what to do.

But as it turned up, there was no need, because his limbs suddenly began moving with a will of their own, his hand rising to the back of Alfred's neck as he looked into his large, blue eyes, pulling him closer. Arthur tried to fight, to oppose that something foreign taking hold of his body, ordering his hand and now putting words in his mouth. Words which weren't his own.

"Sooooo, you had to disobey me… You had to come for this young man…. " He managed only a brief pause, trying to shake his head, but found his neck to be stiff as a board. "Do you know what this young man is to ME? Tell me, what is he to you? Why are you looking for him?" he whispered in Alfred's ear, his tone dripping with poison.

"Who the hell are you? What the fuck do you want from me?! What did you do with Arthur?" the bespectacled blond struggled to release himself from the other's grip as the sharp nails now dug into his skin, but to no avail.

"Answer me, Alfred," he demanded. "Tell me why you broke your vow to me!"

"Arthur, snap out of it!" the American yelled and backhanded him as hard as he could.

The green-eyed young man fell backwards on the pillow, on the edge of blackout for a moment, trembling fingers patting his cheek. "Oww! What are you doing? Why did you slap me? God, my head hurts," Arthur whined, at last free to use his own mouth. His hands were back to normal too and the strange clothing was gone as well, it was as if an evil spell had been broken.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. But he was here, this 'Owner' guy, he spoke from your mouth. I was just trying to wake you up. Here, let me help you," Alfred offered, gently holding his hand and helping him to step from the pillow to the floor. In return, the Englishman offered him the jacket of his suit to put over his wet t-shirt.

* * *

"Arthur, who do you think this guy is? And why is he keeping us here… in his mind?" the bespectacled blond asked once they were back in the hallway.

"I don't know. I suppose he's keeping you here because he likes your music and he wanted you to play only for him. And he keeps me here because… he likes me? Which is strange, since I don't have so many 'fans'. None actually…" Arthur mumbled with a wry smile. _Oh, bloody brilliant! I really ought to stop talking crap!_

"Oh come on, I don't think that's true," Alfred replied with a smile of disbelief."Okay listen, I think that if there's a way out, it's got to be at the other end of this damned hallway, because this is one end of it. Unless it isn't, of course, one of the locked rooms I found earlier…" he added.

"I… I thought of that too, actually…" the other blond said, leaving out the fact that he'd also thought that most likely there wasn't such a thing as a _way out_.

Suddenly somewhere in front of them a door opened and a little boy ran out crying. A woman's voice was yelling from behind him. "You are a monster! Nobody loves you now and nobody ever will! Everybody hates you! Be cursed! God has punished me by giving you to me. I did not deserve that! I am pure of sins!" the voice finally faded into an imperceptible mutter.

The ashen blond child stopped in the middle of the hallway clutching a teddy bear under his arm. "Arthur, you are no better." he said, large purple orbs fixing the Englishman before he ran through another door which opened to his left, dropping his toy.

_**To be continued** _


	3. Chapter 3

"What?! What do you mean? Wait!" Arthur hurried after the child, not really knowing why but instinctively feeling there was something he ought to find out, maybe…maybe…

Alfred followed panting. "Who is this kid, do you know him?" he asked, as the Englishman reached the place where the boy had stood moments before and picked up the teddy bear, turning it thoughtfully on all sides.

"Never seen him before." The green-eyed young man pulled nervously at his collar, loosening the suddenly constricting tie as his hand reluctantly descended towards the knob of the door the boy had disappeared behind. "Alfred, I have a strange feeling. I feel I have to get in here alone…" Arthur said, pressing his forehead.

The other blond looked at him oddly, blinking. "What?! No way! What if you don't come back?! Arthur, we can't risk to separate. We may never find each other again! And we must stick together if we want to have the slightest chance of ever leaving this place!"

"Oh God… alright, alright… here's what we'll do, we both get in, but you'll wait for me at the door," he said as he walked in.

They found themselves in an old kitchen, filled with dusty and filthy stuff. A broken wooden chair lay in one corner. Stray sunlight rays came through the wooden blinds half covering the only window. The boy had crouched on the floor at the back end of the room and kept his face hidden in his hands.

"Hey!" Arthur said softly as he drew closer and knelt in front of the child. "You dropped your teddy… What's your name?" he asked as the little boy eventually lifted his head.

"I'm Ivan. And you are Arthur," the ashen blond boy said looking straight into the other's eyes, deep purple boring into green. "Do you hate me, Arthur?"

The Englishman flinched, wheels beginning to turn in his head and he fought back the scowl about to creep onto his face. "No! No, of course I don't hate you. Why would I?"

"My mother says so," came the shaky reply. As much as he would have wished it, Arthur found he could not begrudge a child. He simply wasn't that kind of person.

"Oh, I think your Mom was just upset," he said, trying to sound comforting as he gently placed the toy in the child's hand, who promptly clutched it to the small chest. "My Mom gets upset too sometimes. But I'm sure she didn't mean to say that."

"Okay…" the boy did not sound very convinced.

The blond sighed, chewing on his lip as he pondered on the next step, turning briefly to glance back at the American, who stood awkwardly in the doorframe, hands stuffed in Arthur's suit jacket which was clearly too small for him. "Listen, do you know where the door to your house is? How we can get outside?" he decided to ask eventually.

But the boy wasn't looking at him anymore, the large purple orbs curiously taking in the singer's frame before a tiny finger shot in the man's direction. "Who is he?"

"Oh… he's… uh… Alfred," Arthur stammered, unsure in which way he should refer to him.

"Is he your boyfriend?" little Ivan wanted to know.

It had been just an innocent question, at least apparently, but the Englishman choked, hoping his cheeks weren't by any chance turning red or anything. The truth was that he'd had a _huge_ crush on the man for a while now, but hell… Was this a test or something? He drew a breath, rising to his feet and the boy did the same, still staring curiously at Alfred.

"Oh no, he's just a... an acquaintance. In fact we just met," the green-eyed young man replied at last.

A bizarre look of disappointment, or maybe confusion crept onto the child's face as he shyly shifted his gaze to the teddy in his arms. "Funny, that's not what he said… "

"What who said?" But Arthur knew who _he_ was. Terror gripped him like a claw and he resisted the urge to hug himself as he shivered. He wanted to just drop to the floor, cry and scream, let it all out.

"I said, da, "explained the Owner."I thought better of you, Arthur. You are a liar. You promised you wouldn't talk to Alfred and still there you are both of you, and now you are lying to little Ivan in the hopes of finding your way out. You know Arthur, lying to an innocent is the worst thing you could do, da."

"You bloody tosser!" the Englishman yelled hysterically, looking up where the voice seemed to come from, but there was nothing there but a cracked, filthy ceiling."I know who you are now! And I know why you brought me here! You're out of your fucking mind! But you don't own me, you don't own crap!"

"Arthur, come on," Alfred grabbed his wrist, shaking the smaller blond from his angry fit. "We have to get out of here!"

He pulled the stumbling youth out of the room and half-dragged him as he run blindly down the corridor, desperate to put some momentary distance between them and the horrid presence, even if _it_ was technically everywhere. They reached a staircase at the end of the corridor and descended in a hurry. But at the bottom of the stairs there was no way out, instead another corridor opened. It was narrower than the other one and had even more doors on each side. In an impulse, Arthur opened the first door they encountered and got in, slamming the door behind them.

"Crap, it's pointless!" he panted, blinking back tears and wiping his brow with a shaky hand. "There's no hiding from him, since this is his mind! You can't hide in someone's mind, damn it!" he mumbled, pressing his forehead against the cold wall covered with bits of peeling paint.

"Earlier you said you knew who this guy is. So who the hell is he?!" Alfred demanded, gripping his shoulders and making the green-eyed young man face him.

Arthur gulped, avoiding the other's hard stare. _This is absolutely the worst!_ "He's a neighbour of mine. A sodding freak! He asked me out this Friday and I refused. Politely! I really didn't think it was such a big deal. His name is Ivan and I suppose that kid was a younger self of his. I read this crap in a book once, that we all keep inside the child we once were, or that sort of bollocks…"

"Great, so he's obsessed with us or something. But how the hell did he do this? How did he get us in here?"

"I don't know, I don't know, damn it!" the Englishman's voice broke with despair and tears welled in his eyes anew. "I'm sorry! But what was I supposed to... to do? I didn't want to go out with him! It's not my fault that Mom gave him my mobile and told him I was single!" he sobbed, shaking, as he buried his face in his hands.

"Come on, don't cry." Alfred's voice softened, as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I mean, why did it have to happen to me?" the smaller blond went on, slumping towards the bare wooden floor. "What the bloody hell is he so obsessed about?! I'm not beautiful, I'm not anything! I'm just an ordinary bloke and I just wanted a normal life. But guess what, not possible!" He stopped abruptly, slapping a hand over his mouth. _Not to mention how pathetic I am and how much I like to complain_ _!_

He flinched and fought back a gasp when he found himself gathered in strong arms as Alfred pulled him up gently, holding him close."Oh no, don't blame yourself for it! And I don't understand, why do you say that?" The American lifted his chin to meet his gaze, the deep blue stare making his heart ache with longing. "You _are_ beautiful, and you are a good person, I can see that!"

"Y-you're just saying that…" Arthur mumbled, averting his gaze.

"No, I'm not just saying…"

Alfred leaned in, ever so gently, and their lips met. Arthur flinched as a soft mouth was pressed against his and hands slid down his back, leaving goose-bumps under the thin shirt in their wake. Eyes closing and letting out a small moan, he parted his lips, allowing the other's tongue to slip in and explore him, playfully toying with his own. Bloody hell, that tongue piercing was something else! A warm thumb rubbed his flushed cheek gently, wiping the tearstains. The green-eyed youth clung to the other blond's strong shoulders for support as he nearly felt his knees weak when Alfred's mouth left his and slowly traced his jaw line, planting soft kisses along it and sliding down to his neck. _God, this is so good! This is so..._

"No, wait! Alfred, stop!" he suddenly cried, nearly pushing the American off him. "We can't do this! I-It's wrong! What if _he_ sees us?"

"I DO see you, da!" the voice echoed in the empty room. "And you are right, it is wrong, I'm glad you finally realize it, my little friend. You mean nothing to him! Join me, Arthur, be mine, my prince. He's just a slave and he will suffer for his offence, da!"

Arthur stumbled slightly, propping himself on the wall as he stared in horror past an equally bewildered Alfred's shoulder. Now the voice had a face. A tall, muscular man with ashen blond hair wearing what were probably meant to be royal garments. _So this is how he sees himself…_. Letting out a breath, he made up his mind in a split-second.

"Yes Ivan, I will join you. I will be your prince," he said determinedly, walking past Alfred and placing his hand in his captor's awaiting one.

"What?! Arthur, what the fuck are you doing?!" the bespectacled blond asked, horrified.

"I'm sorry, I have to do this."

* * *

All the sudden everything changed. The room enlarged and became richly decorated with golden velvet curtains. Arthur found himself sitting on a sofa, wrapped in a silk green robe and the long black claws were back onto the tips of his fingers. He shuddered at the sight, shivers running down his spine, but steeled his will. _This is how he wants me, so... he shall have what he wants_ …

Ivan stood in the middle of the room with his back turned, bent above a large table and whatever he did made a shrieking sound. At last he turned towards the green-eyed young man and produced the object of his toil. "My love, isn't this blade perfect?" he asked holding a long sword in front of his eyes.

Arthur's stomach cringed at the sight of the weapon, the blade gleaming wickedly in the light of the countless candles scattered around them. He was having serious second thoughts about what he'd tried to do in the first place. He struggled for words, but they wouldn't come, he was too scared.

Fortunately, Ivan seemed oblivious to his lack of reply."If you wish, it will be my present for you. But first, this blade must taste blood, da." Purple eyes turned to him, searching, but the Englishman only gulped and managed a small nod as he watched his captor swing the sword back and forth, trying to process what he'd just heard.

"The slave's blood, my prince," the man clarified, pointing and following that direction the smaller blond saw Alfred shirtless, tied up to a chair with thick ropes, his head down, blond bangs falling messily over his brow and concealing his eyes. He had to do something, now and he desperately wracked his brain for a solution. His eyes scanned the room frantically, but there was nothing helpful, there was nothing there except Ivan and his blasted sword and he didn't think... but then the Englishman's gaze dropped to his own hands and he carefully wiggled his fingers, surprised he could still move them with ease.

Forcing himself up on shaky legs, he rushed towards Ivan, managing to plaster a fake grin on his face."Can I also taste his blood, my king?" he asked cunningly.

"Anything, if it pleases you, da." His captor headed towards Alfred with the sword swinging in his right hand and stopped in front of the chair.

"Wait, I want to see this!" Arthur begged, hands slipping up on Ivan's broad shoulders.

"Now… I'm thinking a cut will be good, da. But where?" He moved the sword's sharp tip up and down Alfred's bare torso, pondering. Suddenly the American lifted his head and Arthur glanced straight into his eyes as they filled with terror and something else, like a silent plea.

The Englishman took a deep breath, knowing there was only one thing to do."I think it should be… right here!" he said and with a quick move he ran the claw of his right index across Ivan's throat, cutting it open. For a moment, the man was petrified, then the sword fell to the floor with a loud clatter. He slowly turned to the smaller blond, who hurried to take a few steps backwards, expecting the worst. The blood came gushing out of his wound and poured over his rich garments.

"How could you, my love..?" he hardly managed to say as he fell to his knees, before his massive body collapsed with a dull thud.

Arthur panted in horror at what he'd done, tears streaming freely down his face as he stared disbelieving at the corpse lying into a pool of dark crimson and which had already begun to disintegrate, like putrid paper.

"It's over!" Alfred told him, now free of his bonds and reaching out to grip his shaking shoulders lightly. "Arthur, look at me! Now we can…"

"Now we can what?"

All around them the walls began to crumble and fall apart. Then it all went dark.

* * *

**Tuesday 10 A.M.**

Green eyes fluttered open, met with the sight of a white room, sunken in bright sunlight. The specific hospital smell hit Arthur's nostrils and he realized where must have been. He felt completely worn-out, exhausted while lying under the covers and a taste of ash lingered in his mouth. His fingers groped at the sheets as he tried to figure out… _Ugh, what was that again?_ Real… 'real' was the word, but the pristine ceiling provided no answer as the blond stared blankly upwards. He barely registered that somewhere in the distance a door had opened and now light footsteps hurried towards the bed.

"Arthur! Oh my God! My baby! You woke up!"

"Mom…?" he whispered.

His mother hurried to embrace him tightly while tears welled from her eyes. "How do you feel? Are you alright? Your fever is gone!"

"Mmmh… fever?" Arthur mumbled, his gaze focusing with some difficulty. So _it was a dream after all…_ Of course, the Englishman told himself, struggling to breathe through the emptiness in his chest and resisting the urge to curl up into a tight ball and just cry. He should have been glad, now he was safe. _And alone_.

Mrs. Kirkland stroked his hair. "Yes, Dr. Beilschmidt told me you were in a coma due to a cerebral fever attack. It's very rare. But he says it's caused by stress. I told you were working too much, love!"

"Yes, Mom… I-I know, I will try to-" Arthur stuttered, unsure as to what he would try though.

"Anyway love, we had another case of such fever. It was that musician we saw on TV a few days ago, remember?" Mrs. Kirkland went on, suddenly good-humoured and her usual chatty self. "I think he recovered his consciousness too, someone else was in charge with him but Dr. Beilschmidt told me."

Arthur winced in surprise. "Alfred?!" he murmured, trying to haul himself up from the pillows, but Mrs. Kirkland's instantly suspicious gaze clearly indicated that he'd made a mistake. "I-I mean…"

"Do you know him?" she asked.

_Bloody brilliant, couldn't keep my mouth shut!_ "Uh… no, of course not. I just know the band, they're one of my favorites," the blond mumbled weakly.

"Alright love, get some more rest. Maybe tomorrow if you're well enough you can go for a walk in the yard. Unfortunately this is a busy shift and won't be able to stay with you."

* * *

**Wednesday 5 P.M.**

Arthur sat all alone on a bench in the hospital's yard, feeling uneasy in the miniature park populated with patients and hospital staff. He'd never been in the hospital before and found the place horribly depressing. If only his mother had brought him a book or something, it was terrible to be alone with his thoughts like that, cut from rest of the world. The blond shivered in the thin robe as he stared at the small pebbles at his feet. He'd been awake for more than a day now and still couldn't figure out what the hell had happened to him. There was a small part in Arthur which refused to accept that it had all just been a fever-induced dream, with no other meaning. It had felt so real, so real!

The green-eyed young man was pulled from his musings as light steps drew near, coming towards him. _Bloody hell, it's probably another old lady who thinks I'm here because I took too many pills or something… Please God, don't let her sit here…_ he silently prayed, keeping his head down stubbornly _._ Maybe whoever it was would get the hint and sod off.

_Or not…_ the Englishman concluded bitterly, as the intruder not only sat down next to him, but scooped to get a better look at his face.

"Hey! "a pleasant, soft male voice asked. "Arthur?"

His head jerked up instantly and he flinched, blinking nervously as his eyes took in the bespectacled blond who watched him curiously, with a light smile. "Yes, I… Alfred?"

The American smiled again, reaching out for the other's hand. His large palm was warm as he covered Arthur's, letting their fingers intertwine a bit."So it was for real after all… At least you are real and I'm pretty sure we haven't met before this… dream," he said.

"I guess…"

"I still don't get it how we escaped though…"

Arthur cringed, the other thing his mother had told him afterwards suddenly making sense. And right now he wished it hadn't, because it was just too much to handle. _Too bloody much!_ He winced, hugging himself over the hospital robe, fingers digging helplessly into the foreign fabric. He shook his head, fighting a sudden wave of nausea.

"Alfred, uh, _that part_ was real too. Ivan is dead, Mom told me. They found him in his apartment. He had a heart attack," he muttered in a coarse voice, avoiding the other blond's gaze."I-I think that… I killed him, I…"

Silence fell and the smaller blond envisaged the likely outcome. Now the singer was going to get up and leave without another word, horrified. At best. At worst... the Englishman had no idea what he'd do at worst. Both his hands flew to his mouth as he drew his knees up on the bench and buried his forehead in them.

He heard Alfred sigh. "I don't know... But the doctor said that a couple of days more and my brain would have been toast. There was no hope. If I hadn't woken up, they would have pulled the plug, eventually. I would have died. We would have both died." He slid the bomber jacket he was wearing off his shoulders and used it to wrap the shivering young man tightly. "Arthur, listen to me! I know he's dead and I'm sorry you had to go through this, maybe I should have... don't know, done something too, but... please stop blaming yourself. He was a lunatic and you saved us!"

Eventually, Arthur dared to look up at him, sniffing. The bespectacled blond smiled widely, cupping his cheek with a warm hand. "I suppose now you really don't have a date," he chuckled softly.

"No... Bummer, I'm totally dateless," the other replied with a wry smile.

"Then perhaps we could do something about that… "

But of course, just as Alfred was drawing closer, perhaps even leaning in for a kiss, things just _had_ to go to shit. _Oh, bloody hell, not now! God please, why now!?_ the green-eyed young man wondered in utter despair as he spotted his mother walking out of the building, no doubt in search for him.

"Oh, bloody brilliant, here comes my mother. Alfred, please don't smile too widely!"

"Huh?"

"If she sees your tongue piercing I'm absolutely dead," Arthur grumbled.

"Oh..."the singer said. "Wait till she sees my tattoos!" he laughed.

"For God's sake, shut up!"

* * *

**1 week later**

_God, there's nothing worse than having to wake up early in the morning_ Arthur thought as he struggled with sleep, pretty much as usual. He inhaled deeply, relishing in the scent of fresh coffee wafting from the kitchen. Stretching lazily and a small smile creeping onto his face, he tossed the covers aside and dragged himself out of bed.

"Hurry up baby, I've made some breakfast, it's in the kitchen. I'll join you in a minute," Alfred said with a smile, placing a quick peck on the other blond's lips.

Arthur sat down at the kitchen table still half asleep. Suddenly he noticed the contents of his plate and his face dropped visibly. "Uh... Alfred, what is this?" he asked when the American returned.

"What is what?"

"Uh… this?" Arthur pointed at his plate cocking an eyebrow.

"Oh, that is a very special type of bread, very healthy. They recommended it to me at the hospital"

"Uh…. Alright..." _Bloody hell!_

**THE END**


End file.
